


Friend or Q?

by anticyclone



Category: Good Omens (TV), Star Trek
Genre: Crossover, Humor, M/M, Post-Armageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23622376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anticyclone/pseuds/anticyclone
Summary: "Zira, aren't you bored?"Q very much wants to be friends. Aziraphale very much wants to eat his soup in peace.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Friend or Q?

"This is getting rather tiresome, Q."

"I thought you _liked_ crepes."

"I do," Aziraphale said, wearily. "But I was looking forward to that soup."

Q snapped his fingers. The table reverted to the way it had looked three minutes ago, before Q had materialized in the back of the shop and ignored Aziraphale's objections to him taking the opposite seat. The checkered tablecloth vanished, as did the wine, the two glasses, and the plate of golden-brown crepes. In their place was Aziraphale's chicken soup and crusty bread.

Aziraphale picked up his spoon. "Thank you."

If this had been a lunch Crowley interrupted back in the day, before they had quite worked out all the kinks in the Arrangement, he would have added, _You didn't need to get rid of the wine._ But Q was not Crowley and they most certainly did not have an Arrangement. (Not for Q's lack of trying.)

"Zira, aren't you bored?"

"I have repeatedly told you not to call me that. And no. If you bothered to check in on a regular basis, you would know I've had more than enough excitement lately."

"Check in regularly, he says. You expect me to have a mortal relationship to time."

"It's not difficult. At least for those of us outside the Continuum." Aziraphale raised his eyebrows at Q's aggrieved expression and blew the steam off a spoonful of broth. "If you don't want my commentary, you should let me know when you plan to visit."

Q groaned. He watched Aziraphale eat soup and rip off a piece of bread to dip into the bowl. "Spontaneity, Zira. That's what you need. There's no place so old as Earth, and you and I both know it. I could take you to the Ara'naslt Magma Fields. I could take you to the best restaurant ever to exist, on its chef's best day. I could take you to the giantest gas giant in the universe."

"Once you've seen one magma field I'm afraid you've seen them all," Aziraphale said. "And I enjoy experiencing food at its own pace."

"We could be clouds of helium together!"

Aziraphale shook his head. "Being helium isn't that appealing."

Q reached out, intercepting Aziraphale's hand as he reached for the bread again. Aziraphale sighed, rolling his eyes as Q folded both his hands over Aziraphale's. "There's so much we could do that's more exciting than - than lunch. You're _wasted_ on Earth, Zira."

Outside, there was the furious screech of a car coming to a halt. Q didn't seem to notice.

"You should really let go of my hand," Aziraphale said, mildly.

Q did not let go of his hand. "As if either of us are actually shaped like this. Don't tell me I'm wrong, I can see your true form."

Which was, of course, the moment the door swung open.

"Don't touch my husband," Crowley snapped.

Q let go of his hand. "Husband?"

Crowley slammed the door shut behind himself. It rattled in the frame, and all the windows in the shop went dim, as if a cloud had passed in front of the sun. Q scowled and flicked his wrist. The windows went briefly bright again. At least until Crowley pushed his sunglasses up his face. Then they went pitch black.

"Yes," Aziraphale said. He tore off that piece of bread he'd been going for and smiled. "We got married."

Q opened and shut his mouth. He watched Crowley stride over to the table and possessively settle his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders, and he watched Aziraphale snuggle into the grip. He muttered a curse under his breath that briefly warped the air pressure around the shop and caused a strong wind to nearly knock several pedestrians over outside.

"When," he demanded, "did you get _married?_ What a boring, backwater, outdated mortal custom. I can't believe you, Zira, I thought you were better than that. And to him? He's all flash, no substance. He doesn't deserve you. Why wasn't I invited?"

"Fairly recently. Just after Armageddon," Aziraphale said.

Crowley added, "I wouldn't invite you to your own funeral, Q."

"We're all immortal!"

"Some of us are more immortal than others," Crowley said, darkly. He glared over the rims of his sunglasses.

Q glared back. "I won't stand to be insulted like this. Aziraphale, tell him to take it back!"

Aziraphale raised one eyebrow. "I don't see you standing at all. In fact, you're in Crowley's seat."

"See if I ever bring you crepes again," Q huffed. He snapped his fingers and vanished in a flare of light.

Crowley grumbled. He bent low to kiss Aziraphale's jaw. Sunlight slowly filtered back in through the windows. "He brought you crepes?"

"I told him I didn't want them. I didn't even take the wine. You know I don't like him, dear, he's so… obnoxious."

Instead of sitting in the now-vacated chair, Crowley slid both his hands over Aziraphale's shoulders and linked them together across Aziraphale's chest. He nuzzled Aziraphale's neck. It bumped his sunglasses up off his eyes. "Don't suppose you think I've managed to get rid of him for good?"

"Unfortunately, no. Actually, this explains the last time we saw him, in the 1400s. He tried to give us those steel bracelets we thought were manacles. Must've been an anniversary present at the wrong time."

"I hated the 1400s."

"I know. Sit down, let me finish my soup."

Instead of sitting in the now-vacated chair, Crowley decided to sit square in Aziraphale's lap. But he also miracled a new bottle of wine onto the table, along with two glasses, so Aziraphale decided to allow it.


End file.
